Tulips are my favorite cut flowers. Instead of wilting as they age, they expand, reaching out in graceful curves to embrace and take up more space. Instead of turning brown, they become more transparent, allowing light to shine through them, creating unique color and glow. I love watching them transition through the entire process, as they embrace the short life they are given even as they become imperfect. 

While I am not old, I’m also no longer young, and am beginning to wonder what it looks like for me to expand into my space and life gracefully, to become more transparent, to embrace my imperfections and short life. What does it look like to grow more beautiful in the life I live as I get older, instead of turning in on myself and wilting? 

The past three years I’ve struggled with infertility and multiple miscarriages. It feels like my body is failing me and I am turning brown and wilty. I don’t really know what to do, and so I watch the tulips and wonder at their grace. 

Even as I paint these, I struggle with my own imperfections as an artist. I intentionally chose a process that involves imperfections. I add water to the paint to create texture. The imperfections of the water and paint pooling are what make the beauty, the ruffled edges of the watermarks mirrors the ruffled edges of aging tulips. It is a slow process as I am forced to let each layer of very wet paint dry, waiting to see what happens with the color and textures. But still, I find myself poking and prodding a little too much in an attempt to bring control to the chaos — never quite sure when its done, when I can be happy with it. 

And yet, here they are. Imperfect Tulips.